“God can do all things,” said the Abbot of Antinoe.

“He cannot do that which is absurd,” replied the veiled woman.  “To punish them, they must first be enlightened, and if they possessed the truth, they would be like unto the elect.”

Vexed and horrified, Paphnutius again bent over the edge of the abyss.  He saw the shade of Nicias smiling, with a wreath of flowers on his head, sitting under a burnt myrtle tree.  By his side was Aspasia of Miletus, gracefully draped in a woollen cloak, and they seemed to talk together of love and philosophy; the expression of her face was sweet and noble.  The rain of fire which fell on them was as a refreshing dew, and their feet pressed the burning soil as though it had been tender grass.  At this sight Paphnutius was filled with fury.

“Strike him, O God! strike him!” he cried.  “It is Nicias!  Let him weep! let him groan! let him grind his teeth!  He sinned with Thais!”

And Paphnutius woke in the arms of a sailor, as strong as Hercules, who cried—­

“Quietly! quietly! my friend!  By Proteus, the old shepherd of the seals, you slumber uneasily.  If I had not caught hold of you, you would have tumbled into the Eunostos.  It is as true as that my mother sold salt fish, that I saved your life.”

“I thank God,” replied Paphnutius.

And, rising to his feet, he walked straight before him, meditating on the vision which had come to him whilst he was asleep.

“This vision,” he said to himself, “is plainly an evil one; it is an insult to divine goodness to imagine hell is unreal.  The dream certainly came from the devil.”

He reasoned thus because he knew how to distinguish between the dreams sent by God and those produced by evil angels.  Such discernment is useful to the hermit, who lives surrounded by apparitions, and who, in avoiding men, is sure to meet with spirits.  The deserts are full of phantoms.  When the pilgrims drew near the ruined castle, to which the holy hermit, Anthony, had retired, they heard a noise like that which goes up from the public square of a large city at a great festival.  The noise was made by the devils, who were tempting the holy man.

Paphnutius remembered this memorable example.  He also called to mind St. John the Egyptian, who for sixty years was tempted by the devil.  But John saw through all the tricks of the demon.  One day, however, the devil, having assumed the appearance of a man, entered the grotto of the venerable John, and said to him, “John, you must continue to fast until to-morrow evening.”  And John, believing that it was an angel who spoke, obeyed the voice of the demon, and fasted the next day until the vesper hour.  That was the only victory that the Prince of Darkness ever gained over St. John the Egyptian, and that was but a trifling one.  It was therefore not astonishing that Paphnutius knew at once that the vision which had visited him in his sleep was an evil one.